


The Death of Humane Love

by agendersam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood and Gore, Brain Damage, Codependent Winchesters, Dark Dean Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff, Gore, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Insanity, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Mental Disintegration, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Needles, Obsessive Dean Winchester, Possessive Dean, Romance, Smut, mentions of animal death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:12:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agendersam/pseuds/agendersam
Summary: The minute Sam was born was also the minute he was at mercy to his brother's madness.Important notice in Chapter 6, please read!





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware of the tags listed above, as this work can be very triggering/disturbing to others.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for mentions of animal death, amateur medical procedures, and mild sexism.

It has been unknown as to why the human nature is so individually unique but yet universally primitive. Humans are stubborn, controlling, animalistic at times, but also so kind, innocent, and pure. Some more than others.

There are theories, of course, followed by decades of research and study...but no answers are truly found. Every person is different. Some people are born to be saints, other monsters.

In this regard, nature versus nurture is irrelevant...some people cannot even be touched by the fruit of salvation grown from either others or their environment. And that is how the world works.

Here is the story of someone who was damned from the beginning and who became their willing but unknowing victim.

 

It started the moment Dean could walk and talk. A quiet child with bright eyes of intelligence and charm, he was like his darling mother Mary but unlike his average father John. Dean would smile when he needed to in politeness and care but otherwise did not make a habit of it. The only thing that made him smile purely was taking control of something and being a leader or owner. He enjoyed the reliance towards him, as it made him feel like an adult and important.

Sunny days were spent reading books that were far above the reading level of his mere age of three years old. He read basic biology and anatomy books from the local library. Mary was so proud of her nearly genius child, encouraging to pursue his dreams. She said he could become a doctor, and Dean had a dual interest in medicine and also the boyish affinity to cars. But medicine dominated it at the moment and became a hobby.

The child secretly enjoyed seeing things at their most vulnerable and keeping them alive in his hands. The control and dominance were unmovable and irresistible. But he was not ever cruel.

He would remain alone in his room despite Mary’s protests that he still socialize and make friends. He had stacks of books beside his little desk, along with stashes of toothpicks and needles from his mother’s sewing kit. He practiced on his action figures and small animals found in the fields around his home, taking them apart and putting them back together again.

He always took care of what he was using, bringing the meager corpses to where he found them. Thinking he was a curious child, no one knew of his secret.

It was one evening during dinner that Dean found out two things.

“Mommy, I wanna doll,” Dean requested, looking up from his plate of spaghetti and dryly twirling it around with his fork.

Mary parted her pink lips before John interrupted, “You’re not getting a doll. Maybe we can get you another action figure. The last one was all beat up from you playin’ too rough...didn’t have any arms.” Of course, the man was oblivious as to why.

Their son frowned and his green eyes shown in defiance as he looked towards his mother, “Mommy, please?”

Smiling in mild pity and kindness, Mary suggested, “Maybe if you’re a really good boy before Christmas. me and Daddy have something special to tell you.” John’s own expression softened immediately at his wife, holding her hand on the kitchen table as they both looked towards their son. “...You’re going to have a baby brother.”

Dean pondered over that before smiling softly, “Okay. What’s his name gonna be?”

“Samuel,” she answered.

For the rest of the meal, Dean happily asked questions about his new baby brother, wondering what he was going to look like and what he would act like. The neighborhood kids talked about having younger siblings, and while Dean was wary of them being gross or annoying...he felt something in his heart declare otherwise.

Over the next several months, Dean pushed away his morbid hobby and opted for eagerly awaiting the days for Sam’s birth. He watched as Mary’s stomach swelled and rounded, talking to the petit being inside. His parents both marveled at their son growing from quiet and somber to charming and even brighter.

Soon May 2nd arrived, and Dean was in the waiting room with John. He could not stay still, pacing back and forth and babbling to his father. “When’s Sammy gonna come?” he would ask, emerald eyes pleading for answers.

Each time, John would just reply, “Soon.”

And finally, after eight hours of labor, Samuel Winchester arrived in this world. Dean gripped John’s hand as they entered the room, the mild smell of leftover blood and cleaner climbing into the child’s nose. The hospital room was a bright white with mauve curtains draped over the single window to the left, and Mary’s eyes were exhausted but overjoyed.

“Hey, Dean...do you want to see your baby brother?” she cooed, voice soft from the screaming her son could hear not too far away.

Seeing his baby brother in Mary’s arms, Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. Sam was so little, a mere seven pounds and quietly mewling in his blanket. To Dean, he looked like those delicate porcelain dolls in antique shops along the streets of the nearest city with perfectly manicured hair and shining eyes. And this one had feathery strands of brown hair and hazel eyes.

Perhaps Sam was a living, breathing doll that Dean could own someday. Maybe Mary was lying in front of John and this was Dean’s early Christmas present...his mother sometimes did that; as she even knew of her husband's stubborn and harsh nature.

But he loved Sam too much to poke and prod like he did with the animals and toys. He wanted to wait until they were both older, and he would do anything in his power to make sure Sam was never hurt or bothered by anything Dean ever did.

After begging Mary to let him hold little Sammy, the child’s love grew and grew once he saw those hazel eyes filled with innocence and childlike adoration. It also grew obsessive and dark in turn with the purity.

Dean wanted to preserve Sam’s beautiful fragility and see it every minute of his lifetime.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for codependency, character death (fire), graphic depictions of death, the death of a family member (mother), physical abuse, and parental neglect.

Once Mary was ready to return home, Dean would constantly ask if he could hold his little brother. “I wanna hold Sammy!” he would declare, hands stretched out to his mother.

Every time Mary would oblige unless she was nursing or her maternal instincts and chemical bonds told her to continue holding the newborn. Sam was a beautiful baby, eyes now opening up to show hazel orbs with streaks of green and soft brown. His hair was a bit fuller, a deeper chestnut brown than before.

Dean would gaze lovingly into Sam’s eyes when he was holding him, cooing, “I wuv you, Sammy…” And when Mary and John weren’t around, which was rare, Dean would also whisper, “...My doll…”

It was obvious to everyone that the two Winchester brothers now had a bond, Dean at Sam’s side at all times and the younger crying if his big brother wasn’t within either earshot or eyesight. Even with Sam being a few months old, they were inseparable.

The fire on that early November evening changed so much…

 

Holding Sammy in his arms, Dean ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. He heard Mary’s screams and John’s cries before his father finally came out of the burning home, face streaked with soot. The ambulance and fire truck came shortly after, losing the house in water and providing a shock blanket for both John and Dean. 

The elder son refused the blanket, but took it nevertheless and wrapped it around his brother. Finally realizing that his mother was still in there, Dean sniffled as tears poured down his cheeks. He never cried unless it was for Sam...and now grief and sadness poured through him. 

Mary was the most loving mother Dean had ever known, or rather ever cared to know. She was gentle, kind, and almost like an angel. When John said no, she said yes. She encouraged Dean’s aspirations of medicine and mechanics, giving him all of those books now turned to ash. Dean would forever carry his memory of her, locking it away to never be touched unless desperately needed.

Now looking at the fire...her blonde hair in soft curls would now have melted into her skull, tanned skin now blackened to a crisp. Dean couldn’t stop picturing it, and despite all rational thought..he did not mind it. Of course, he was sadness by Mary’s death, but he also now had Sam to himself.

Tears stopping as fast as they came, Dean kissed Sam’s cheek and nuzzled him while their father frantically told the firefighters that his wife was still in there. They told John that Mary couldn’t be saved. Later, they never found the cause of the fire and just labeled it as faulty wires.  But John knew what it was soon after, leading to a never-ending search for a demon that few believed in.

For the next several years, the trio of Winchester boys would go from state to state in a near fruitless search for the yellow-eyed demon. Surprisingly, even though Azazel was at Sam’s crib...no blood ever touched the baby’s lips.

It touched Dean’s. 

At the age of six, Dean was now enrolled in the first grade at a local elementary school located in northwestern Maine, as kindergarten isn’t required. Their small motel room was by the coastline, as John had now made connections with several hunters. John only kept his sons enrolled in school because he knew it would be what Mary wanted: for Sam to be educated and for Dean to continue his dreams of medicine.

Sam screamed and cried that morning of Dean’s first day of school, clinging to his older brother’s pant leg. He glared and kicked his chubby legs at John, wanting to stay with Dean and keep playing.  

Even at the age of two, Sam could kick harshly. “Deeeee!” he wailed, giving the taller a hug before John dragged him off back to the Impala.

Dean didn’t want to go either, but the conversation last night of John’s refusal to let Dean go to school later was met with a harsh shove and, “Don’t argue with me, boy.” So know, the dark-blond just glared at his father and hated him even more.

“Sam, we have to get back home. I’ve got an appointment,” John grumbled, yanking on the toddler’s collar and earning a yelp. Sam quieted at that, not wanting to be hurt anymore, as he watched Dean trek slowly to the school building.

“Okay, Dean. Introduce yourself to everyone!” his teacher, Mrs. Cheryl, requested, voice an uncomfortable ring against the green-eyed child’s ears. Her face was overly done up,  and she smelled heavily of rose perfume. Dean loathed her entirely.

The boy sighed, “Hi, I’m Dean.” The room was quiet, a few kids looking at him suspiciously as he was someone new in such a small school, while others drew on their desks in boredom.

“...Is there anything you’d like to tell us? Hobbies...siblings...anything?” Mrs. Cheryl asked, caring of her nearly mute student and glancing at the children.

The mention of siblings made Dean smile dazzlingly, capturing Mrs. Cheryl’s heart since he was so cute when he did so. “Yeah, I’ve got a little brother. His name’s Sammy. I love ‘im a lot.”

“Aww...well, maybe he can come to Open House tomorrow, Dean. I’d love for you to introduce me,” she cooed, ushering him to the empty desk nearby. 

All too slowly, the school day ended and Dean made his way to the parked Impala outside. Taking his backpack and placing it in the backseat before sitting down, Dean couldn’t move to get his seatbelt on as he felt a little body grab onto him, “Dee!” 

“Heya, Sammy,” the older smiled, kissing his brother’s fluffy, chestnut hair. 

Their father was too busy with whatever he was doing to acknowledge his oldest before addressing, “Dean, I’m gonna be on business for a couple of days. I’m leavin’ tonight. You watch Sammy and stay outta trouble, you hear me?”

“Yes sir,” was the answer as he closed the car door and they drove off.

Both Sam and Dean watched as their father packed a small duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder, turning around and leaving some money on the motel room’s kitchen table. The door was shut and he was gone. Dean was used to this over the years, knowing how to bathe, feed, and entertain Sam already.

“Dee, Daddy go?” Sam chirped, playing with a downy blanket and snuggling into it.

“Yeah, Dad’s gone for a bit, Sammy. But it’s okay,” Dean reassured, uncaring of where his father went off to and instead just wanting to be with his little brother. Since he had no homework that evening, Dean grabbed an anatomy book from his bag and started to read. It was complex even for him, but he learned enough from the pictures to get by.

Peering over his shoulder, Sam sucked on the edge of the blanket and pointed to a picture of a heart, “What that?”

“That’s a heart, Sammy.”

“What it do?”

“Helps you pump blood into your body.”

“An’ love!”

Smiling at how cute his brother was, Dean, pulled the younger into his lap. Pointing to the left of Sam’s chest, Dean said, “Yeah, right there.”

A little finger poked Dean’s torso and hazel eyes sparkled, “Here!” 

“You’re really smart, Sammy,” the older praised, earning a squeal of happiness. “My teacher said you could come to school tomorrow night, wanna come? Dad’s not gonna be here, so you hafta stay with me anyways.”  
“Okay!” was the immediate reply, and Sam snuggled into his brother before dozing off shortly after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for providing kudos and comments so far.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for emotional manipulation and continued parental neglect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented, bookmarked, and given kudos to this fic so far! It means so much to me to see people enjoying my work. :)

Waking up the next morning, the dim late September sunshine leaking through the windows, Dean smiled. He could feel Sam’s tiny body pressed up against him, desperate for warmth and comfort as he wiggled about under the covers. Dean hoped he could have this all the time someday.

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, Dean bundled Sam up in the warmest blanket they had and carried him to the kitchen. Sure Sam was a bit too old to be wrapped up like an infant, but the elder brother liked it this way. 

A sleepy whine escaped Sam’s mouth, “Dee...wanna sweep…” He rubbed at his eyes with his fists before nuzzling back into Dean’s chest.

“You gotta eat breakfast first, Sammy,” Dean negotiated, grabbing a clean bowl and spoon from the sink, and subsequently grabbing the cereal and milk as well. He sat Sam down in the old kitchen chair as he poured the food for him.

Knowing he was skipping school today didn’t bother Dean in the slightest. He had to take care of Sam since John was gone, and since he didn’t know his father that well...Dean didn’t expect to know nor care what kind of reaction the old man would hold.

John hadn’t thought that Dean would have to decide whether to skip school to take care of Sam or leave him alone. Or he hadn’t cared enough to think.

“My teacher said the Open House was at five, Sammy. You wanna go?” Dean offered, peeling an orange and eating a wedge thoughtfully.

“Uh huh! Wanna go Dee’s school!” was the answer from a mouth dripping with milk. 

It was around six in the evening once they arrived at the school, as Sam couldn’t find his favorite pair of socks and wanted to wear them. The younger was gripping onto Dean’s hand tighter in anxiety. But all of the colorful decorations inside made Sam ease up immediately.  

Walking to Dean’s classroom, the green-eyed child was met with the black-rimmed eyes of his teacher and a plastic yet genuine smile.

“Oh, hi Dean! I’m so glad you could come. Is this Sammy?” she cooed.

Sam nodded timidly and hid behind Dean, who protectively wrapped an arm around him, “Yeah, this is Sammy. Our dad said he couldn’t come but it’s okay for us to come.” Of course, that was a lie, but no one knew better. 

“Oh, okay,” she nodded, brow furrowed in mild worry at her student and his sibling being alone, “Well, there’s games for you two to play and some things you can take home!” With that, she scurried off to talk to another set of parents that called for her.

Sam left his brother’s side in curiosity at the sights around him, and while Dean felt a lunge of possession over himself, he knew that this room was safe and small enough. Making sure Sam was in eyesight, Dean turned to the little pile of free things.

Busy gathering the gifts of free crayons and paper for Sam to play with at home, he heard someone call his brother’s name. Looking up, Dean saw Sam hurry over to a group of the elder’s classmates. They were kind in their features, a trio of them inviting Sam to play a simple game of Twister.

This continued on for several minutes until Dean was unable to watch the happy scene in front of him any longer. Finished with stuffing his pockets of crayons and sheets of paper, Dean declared, “Me and Sammy have to go now for dinner time.”

A look of disappointment crossed her face as she replied, “Oh...okay, Dean. You and Sam take care and stay safe, okay?”

They arrived home twenty minutes later, as the school was a couple streets away from the motel. It hadn’t rained thankfully, but Dean had his jacket over Sam’s own to keep the little one warm even if there was only a mild chill in the air.

Closing the door behind them, Dean shed off his boots before helping Sam with his own and the jackets, listening to the younger babble happily about the Open House as the elder tucked the new crayons and paper into the near bedside table. A long, fast string of words pulled themselves from Sam’s mouth, and Dean only understood a handful of it.

“Dee, wanna go school now!” Sam chimed, running over to the bed and jumping onto it. “Played lots!”

The bubble of jealousy grew in Dean’s stomach until it was about to pop, his skin crawling in irritation as he very much remembered how much fun Sam had with the other kids. What if Sam made friends and left Dean? He had to stop that from happening. The bubble popped.

“They didn’t really wanna play with you, Sammy. The just did it ‘cause they feel sorry for us. They don’t care about you,” Dean stated on impulse, heart panging at the tears bubbling up in those little hazel eyes. But he had to do this for Sam’s sake, or else they could never be together.

But perhaps this wasn’t the right thing to do: lie to his little brother just to see Sam cling to Dean like a lifeline and desire no other being in his life.  The better part of Dean’s conscious told him to repair his lie immediately. 

It wasn’t fair to take advantage of Sam like that: he was only two years old and believed that the elder’s word was law. And those kids really did enjoy playing with Sammy.

However, the growing, darker part of Dean’s soul shone through and whispered,  _ “No. You did the right thing. Sam is only yours. Your doll. Dolls aren’t  _ **_made_ ** _ to be  _ **_shared_ ** _.” _

A lone sniffle snapped Dean out of his thoughts, “R-Really?”

“...Yeah, Sammy. It’s just you and me.” And that was law.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed! I appreciate even a few words.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for: dissection, mention of animal death, organs/gore, discussion of chemicals (hydrochloric acid), emotional manipulation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has kept this fic going through kudos, comments, and bookmarks!
> 
> Due to my insecurities about my writing and wanting this fic to be perfect, I am in desperate need of a beta reader! Please message me on Tumblr @agendersam

After that darkened night from the Open House event, Dean continued to stretch and manipulate Sam’s mind at his discretion. The younger now truly believed that no one but his brother cared for him, and isolated himself from his peers and anyone who crossed his path. 

Sam has now rarely spoken to others since the age of six, particularly after an incident where Dean convinced him that talking to anyone was a dangerous act as knowing two minors in town and an absent father that no one saw would land them separated and in foster care. And it would all be Sam’s fault.

With the passing years, Dean grew more handsome and also more charming, his sixteen-year-old frame shaped beautifully with tanned skin and constellation-like freckles. If he and Sam were short on supplies, Dean would go around the neighborhood begging for food, using a soft, vulnerable tone to win over the hearts of elderly couples and lone mothers. He always made sure his face was covered so no one knew of the beggar child.

Many girls and a few boys at school had crushes, or rather, an infatuation for Dean as he never talked to anyone besides what was required socially of him or for amusement. He loved to wink and smile at them, watching their faces flush and the girls giggle beneath their breaths. Internally, he called them idiots. No one compared to his Sam; they should know better.

Going from school to school across the country, Dean was capturing the hearts of many but keeping none.

Now living in a large town in southern Ohio, the two Winchester sons now attended another public school that catered to kindergarten to twelfth grade. With Sam being in seventh grade and Dean in the tenth, the latter would often skip classes in order to see Sam during lunch or five-minute breaks. 

Dean hated all of his classes, not giving a damn about them but bringing his books and assignment for Sam to do for fun. The younger was a nerd like that, eager to learn new things and being sharp as a tack. It made Dean’s heart race and his pupils dilate when he saw how beautiful inside and out Sammy was: intelligent, kind, witty, and gorgeous beyond belief with those hazel eyes and dimpled cheeks.

However, it made Dean guilty when he realized that someday he’d have to take some of Sam’s qualities away. But it was going to make him even more perfect when Sam was quiet and simple-minded; so Dean forgave himself.

It wasn’t until the first semester of junior year that Dean was assigned to anatomy last period. He had heard that the teacher was a carefree man who assigned only hands-on assignments and few to little tests or quizzes. His name was Mr. Sullivan, a tall, lanky man with a handsome face and bright eyes.

“Okay, students. By the end of the year, I expect us to cover every chapter of this book. We’ll have a quiz at the end of the week, and a test the next week after. Most of this class is discretions, as I believe hands-on work is the best and easiest way to learn,” the teacher said, voice clear in the silent room as he gestured to a table of metal instruments and a morbidly foggy plastic bag, “Our first chapter is about the nervous system, and we’ll be dissecting a pig’s brain today. Now, can anyone tell me how many lobes are in the human brain?”

Piercing gray eyes scanned the room before landing on the only person with their hand up, “Dean?”

“There’s four,” the teen answered, earning a few glances from fellow classmates as they all secretly knew that Dean may be handsome but was a weird kid.

Mr. Sullivan smiled, white teeth shining, “Excellent. Now, does anyone know the functions of these four lobes?” 

No one answered, but Dean’s ears perked up as a voice inside told him he needed to know this.  _ It’ll be useful later...with Sam, _ it said.

“Alright, that’s okay,” the older man remarked, putting a pair of gloves on and retrieving a brain from inside the plastic bag. It was a pale gray-beige and the strong smell of formaldehyde filled the room, making Dean’s stomach churn. None of the animals he worked on smelled like this, thankfully.

Pointing to the front of the brain, Mr. Sullivan stated, “This is the frontal lobe, which is associated with event planning, some parts of speech, movement, emotions, problem-solving along with reasoning of events.”

His finger moved to the apex of the organ, and Dean’s attention was already further captured than before, “Here is the parietal lobe also associated with movement, the orientation of the body and recognition of visual objects like book covers or people.”

“Occipital lobe,” the gray-eyed man stated, finger now moving back towards the brain, “the only purpose is just with visual processing, like the fact that everything we see is upside down before our brain flips it.”

Dean’s attention was varied with the last two until Mr. Sullivan reached the temporal lobe, located underneath the frontal, “Associated with the perception of auditory stimulus, memory, and speech, the temporal lobe is the one most often injured in traumatic brain injuries. Or so I’ve heard.”

The room continued to be silent before their teacher finally announced that they were doing dissections now, letting students pick their partners and placing one brain onto each tray. Dean had no partner but didn’t care to have one, preferring to do this on his own.

Putting on the pair of gloves provided, Dean reached for a scalpel and started to separate each of the lobes of the brain. It felt greasy beneath his fingers, but Dean didn’t mind as he easily cut through the tissue while Mr. Sullivan was watching him.

“You’re doing great, Dean,” he praised, ignoring the chatter of students nearby as they neglected their task or threw the brain from one person to another. 

“I know you can damage the brain from force...but what about chemicals? They never show that anywhere,” Dean blurted out, looking at Mr. Sullivan imploringly as the teacher blinked in surprise before clearing his throat. No student had ever asked that, and the older man would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disturbed. New kids were like that, though...right?

“Well...if the acid is completely pure, in other words, undiluted...I’m sure that the tissue would be completely destroyed. But if you diluted with water...then I guess the damage might be less severe. Either way...I don’t think that’ll be necessary to know, Dean.”

Humming in satisfaction with his answer, Dean carried on with his task and mused on the days where he used to take those small creatures apart and examine them. He learned so much, watching the sinews bend and twist with the limbs, or looking at the digestive tract and thinking it looked far too long to be cramped inside there.

The green-eyed teen didn’t notice that Mr. Sullivan had hurried off to tend to another student, not wanting to be near this strange one anymore. But Dean had gotten the answer he wanted and determined that Mr. Sullivan would be useful in the future.

He would need a prototype after all.

Soon, the bell rang and students streamed from the room, Dean being the last of them as he eyed that large bottle of acid in the closet before heading home. Maybe it was best if he started taking notes for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the journal of notes Dean is keeping, Sam branching out with making friends/possibly leaving for more schooling someday and Dean's reaction.


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for: emotional manipulation, possessiveness/possessive partners, and incest (no sex but touching and kissing).
> 
> The inspiration song for this chapter was "Soft Edges" by Saintseneca. It's such a beautiful song and I listened to it the whole time while writing this.

~~_ Dilute hydrochloric acid in order to lessen damages to brain tissue.  _ ~~

_ I ~~f that doesn’t work,~~ _ _ use lobotomy method. _

_ Frontal lobe needs major damage: speech issues, problems with movement, simple emotions, want problems with problem-solving...he can only listen to me. _

_ No damage to the parietal, occipital, and temporal lobe.  _ _ Don’t screw it up. _

_ Create ½ inch deep wounds orbiting kneecap, elbows, shoulders, and top of thighs (avoiding groin area). _

_ Sew wounds to give ragdoll appearance, replace every two weeks until scars become dark and will not fade. _

_ Don’t clean wounds with alcohol wipes _ _ : use water and antibacterial soap. _

_ Give ibuprofen an hour before sewing procedure and give food to prevent stomach ache, want him to be as comfortable as possible. _

_ Lastly: burn and throw away everything after. _

 

Hearing footsteps from behind, Dean shut his notebook firmly before shoving it into his backpack, blood rushing and pounding in his ears. What if Sam found this? He would discover all of Dean’s future plans for him and desires, and the elder brother knew Sam wasn’t ready for it. 

He needed to be made ready.

Looking up, Dean let an easy, lazy smile cross his features as he saw his soulmate in front of him. Dean always kept a wall up, a guard to protect him from those who didn’t understand, making smiles as real as his a rarity.  Sam was the only one who could climb over that wall.

“Hey, Sammy,” the older said, grin diminishing a degree when he saw Sam look uneasy and fidget with the hem of his shirt. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I-I was gonna ask you if I can borrow some money,” the middle schooler stammered, voice higher pitched as puberty hadn’t hit just yet. Sam’s cheeks were flushed in embarrassment at asking his brother for money, and his gaze fell upon the floor.

Digging through the front pocket of his backpack, Dean fished for his wallet, “Sure. Only if you tell me what for.” The older meant nothing by it, not accusing Sam of doing anything but rather wanting to know exactly where he was going.

Sam gulped before facing Dean this time, “Some people at school invited me to go see a movie...said it’d be fun and they wanted to get me out of my shell. T-That’s what they said; not me. I-I didn’t want to say no...” Even Dean could hear the younger’s heart pounding against his chest, afraid that he would have to let them down.

“What kind of movie?” Dean asked imploringly, getting off the bed and putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder to keep him calm.

“I-It’s called Independence Day, they didn’t tell me what it’s about but t sounded kind of cool. I asked my teacher after a test we had and they didn’t know what it as either...but guess what, Dean. I got the highest grade for social studies in my whole class, Mrs. Carmine said that I could be a lawyer or something...it sounds kind of boring but I liked it...learning about law and history…” Maybe if he changed the subject, Dean would stop asking about the movie that Sam didn’t know and he could talk about something he did know. And the movie started at 7 and it was already 5:54, so Sam needed some money now if he could.

When Dean was silent, Sam felt his face grow hot and he continued to speak, “I mean...I know you told me that you’re not going to college, Dean...but I know I want to. I-I can go somewhere nearby though…” 

“You’re leaving me?” Dean asked, breaking the younger’s ramblings and his heart feeling like it was gripped by a hand of ice. First Sam was going to see some dumb movie with a bunch of punks and then all of a sudden he was discussing college? 

Blinking in disbelief, Sam shook his head fast, making his chestnut hair bounce around, “N-No! I’d never do that, Dean...I promise. I-I can become a lawyer and I can pay for a nice house..y-.you can do whatever you want...like fix cars and stuff.”

It felt like the air was pulled out of Dean’s lungs like a harpist pulling at her strings, plucking one by one until she was finished with her task. Did Sam want to leave someday? Dean feared that but never gave it much thought...he thought he’d keep Sam long before any of that happened. He had to think of something fast.

“W-Why would you leave me, Sammy?” Dean asked, “I thought you were happy here with me since Dad’s gone all the time on hunts. And remember what I told you about going out? We can’t trust people out there…” Anxiety and desperation boiled and rolled inside of Dean, and before he knew it, tears started to pool in his eyes. But it wasn’t subconscious.

Feeling guilty, Sam hated himself for making Dean upset and knew better than to make his big brother feel terrible. Dean never got upset like this, so whatever Sam just did...it really did a number.

Stepping forward, Sam wrapped his arms around Dean’s middle and murmured, “I-I’m not leaving, Dean...I’m sorry. I wasn't thinking...I got carried away. I’m sorry.” Impulse came over Sam and he gently pressed a kiss to the older’s cheek, wanting to comfort him.

Hugging Sam tightly, Dean continued his show of crying and knew Sam was genuine in his apology. The younger was too innocent and kind, and Dean loved it. It made for an easier task.

“I love you, Dean. I really do…” Sam said, lifting his head from Dean’s chest to look up at him with doe eyes. His stomach did a flip at being this close to Dean and Sam tried to hide his growing feelings that he’s kept hidden. He didn’t start falling for the older until earlier this year when Sam had pneumonia and Dean cared for him all day and all night for a week and a half. The compassion, dedication, and strength Dean showed made Sam feel unknown things.

Dean kept Sam close to him, gazing into his hazel eyes and knowing something had to be done. Something to keep them forever inseparable...and Dean already loved Sam in more ways than one, that was no secret to himself. So he pressed his lips to Sam’s own.

Kissing Sam was ecstasy in its’ purest form. Sparks of fire started from the soles of Dean’s feet and rose to the apex of his brain, lighting his frame in joy. He felt light as air and green irises consumed pinpoint pupils as dark as the owner’s aura. All Dean could hear was their heartbeats becoming one tune and Sam’s little, short-lived breaths. A wave of love and adoration started from Sam and crashed over the older, only furthering Dean’s obsession for his brother. And it would only get better from here.

“I love you so much, Sam...please don’t leave me,” Dean pleaded, prying himself off of Sam, keeping the sound of his voice as desperate as he truly was but adding sorrow to keep him guilty. It was for the younger’s own good. The same thing with the tears that flowed from those beautiful jewel eyes. All a show to keep Sam here.

“I-I’m never leaving you, Dean. I promise. Y-You’re all I’ve got,” the chestnut-haired boy hushed, hand cupping Dean’s cheek. He pressed a kiss to the side of the older’s mouth before gently biting that gorgeous cupid’s bow.

Uttering those words made Sam confirm that they were true. He’d be all alone at a different school, leaving Dean behind. And how could he do something so cruel to his brother who cared for him so much? It didn’t seem right. 

His mind was affixed to the intoxicating smell of Dean’s aftershave and salty taste of the dirty blonde's tears, one trailing down those deep pink lips. He had been in love with Dean for so long, following him behind dutifully and telling himself it would never happen; it wasn’t possible for two brothers to love one another. But now it happened...and Sam couldn’t dispose of that. 

Glancing at the clock, Sam saw it was 7:14 but didn’t care anymore.

Letting go for a moment, Dean panted for some air and a tired smile came upon him without notice as he saw the beautiful flush of pink in Sam’s cheeks. He kept a hand on the shorter’s back, twisting his fingers in Sam’s shirt. It made Dean feel so much better that Sam felt the same. A weight lifted itself off of Dean’s shoulders, but a voice brought him to reality.

_ You can’t lose this. This is everything you’ve wanted. What if Sam went with those stupid friends of his? The beginning of your journey would never have happened. Do not let that happen again,  _ the voice in Dean’s head barked at him, raspy but unmoving in tone.

And Dean promised himself it wouldn’t happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you have any critiques, suggestions, questions, or if you'd like to tell me what you like about this story! It means so much to me.


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